


Music-Inspired Shorts

by burkoJames



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 00:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkoJames/pseuds/burkoJames
Summary: These are short set pieces I write in reaction to an image provided to me by a piece of music.  I have no intention of developing any of these into anything larger, and unless otherwise stated, are independent of each other.  I will give the genre and Music piece that inspired each piece.





	Music-Inspired Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> Army of the Night by Powerwolf inspired this first piece

The city is doomed. A mighty army marches upon them. A few weeks from now, they will lay siege, and their allies will be too late. 

In the woods to the north lives a despised outcast, a man who dabbles in forces not meant for mortal hands. He makes his living mending limbs the leech mongers can't save. He is said to be immortal. And there are rumors he dabbles in the magic of the dead. Necromancy. He tells grieving families that he can not bring back their loved ones, and they hurl insults back at him. They all know he can restore life to the dead.

In the weeks after the scouts report the army on the move, the looters go wild, trying to make enough money to get out of the city. Weapons go missing en mass, swords and shields that many would think are valuable, but will be worthless in the siege to come. Many looters resort to grave robbing, taking even the bones of the dead. 

The siege comes, and the city fights, a desperate attempt to harry and whittle down the attackers. A desperate attempt to hold off until their allies arrive. Those who remain will defend their city to the last. But as night falls on the first day, light erupts to the north. A beacon of sickly green light, and a similarly colored mist pours out from the forest. Wolves howl, only to be silenced. Birds cry, only to be silenced. The moon hazes over with the sickly green light, and yet, seems brighter, the land easier to see. Which only made what came next worse.

Human forms shamble out, decayed, sickly, they shouldn't be able to move. But move they did. In ranks, steadily, without drum or bugle to direct them. And above the macabre army the source of the light hangs beneath it. The outcast, the necromancer.

The army rides over the invaders, by sheer weight of not being able to die. Wielding swords and shields, they crush the attackers, whose fallen are covered by the light, and stand back up, and join the dark army.

In the aftermath they return to the forest, and as dawn breaks, the only sign of the invaders is the blood they left behind.


End file.
